


There's An Elephant In The Room: Its Name Is Love

by freeagentgirl, LadyPoly, Ravenwolf36



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Coming Untouched, Declarations Of Love, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Love, Polyamory, Promises, Romance, Tantric, sensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 13:32:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6286636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freeagentgirl/pseuds/freeagentgirl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyPoly/pseuds/LadyPoly, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenwolf36/pseuds/Ravenwolf36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen Ackles has come a long way in the year he's spent with Misha Collins. They've built a world just for them inside various hotel rooms, rented apartments during filming and trailer walls full of passion, sensual touches and slow burning kisses while they play their sexual games between the sheets. The elephant in the room grows restless though, and it's been a long time coming. That label that Jensen doesn't quite fit properly when it comes to Misha's sexuality and the way he lives his life between the sheets both alone and with one beautiful Victoria Vantoch is wearing off and Jensen doubts he'll make the cut much longer. The lines of their arrangement are blurring, rules are being broken, feelings are being hurt and fear and anxiety have reached their breaking point. Misha has grown tired of struggling to wait for the other shoe to drop, but as he clutches his heart close he worries if Jensen will return the feelings he's locked up over the years. They've reached a point of no return, despite all that lay between them. Will it make them better or tear them apart when they finally shed light on the thing's they pushed aside?<br/>Story and idea are all LadyPoly. Thank you freeagentgirl and Ravenwolf36 for editing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's An Elephant In The Room: Its Name Is Love

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt written by Desirae that I did my best to fill. The prompt was: An emotional kind of fic where Misha wants to know why Jensen kind of holds back and have it come out that Jensen is scared because he feels like if they were to break up, he would be way more hurt than Misha, like Jensen is under the impression that since Misha has done this whole poly thing before, that this is just fun for him, whereas Jensen is just as in love with him as he is with his wife. Basically cause I feel like irl, this might be a genuine concern of his, like does he really love me, or does he just love this kind of lifestyle. 
> 
> I hope I delivered and that you all love. 
> 
> Dearest Readers,
> 
> It would appear that not only were several of my works copied and posted as someone else’s and that a few people I trusted have also stolen ideas, images created and scenes.
> 
> Should you compare my stories to something I have not said was inspired by a prompt, or that someone has stolen, in the comments of the story please share it with the link, or the place it was and the writer's name or username. I will do what I can to contact them on my own if I need to. Please do not engage them yourselves. If I need help, I will sound the bat signal ;)
> 
> While I have dealt with the people involved the best I can, with the help of loyal reader’s and friends, I have to ask that you please keep this in mind. In the last several weeks it has become very clear to me that the majority of fanfic writers don't understand plagiarism. Stealing ideas without crediting, borrowing quotes, etc and claiming it as your own-- plagiarism. A form of fraud. You cannot take something blow for blow, change the setting and claim that either. An homage is also not done this way, and if you believe so-- it’s still a form of plagiarism.
> 
> When you cite the fandom, the characters etc, you show that you have given credit for the idea. What the writer does next if not stating a prompt and it’s source is their own. The canon ideas are given credit, the divergent is their own.
> 
> Now sometimes similarities inspired by scenes happen, but there is no reason why a comparison of the two should be clear. There is no reason for one writer’s voice to still be evident if you were inspired by their story while claiming your own idea.
> 
> I want to say this didn’t anger me, or hurt me but it did. It infuriated me and to be honest, I didn’t know if I should continue.
> 
> If I am slower to post things now, it is only due to feeling unsure. I am very sorry.
> 
> All my love,  
> LadyPoly

Rome is beautiful, and Misha loves it even more so at night. The lights just seem to add something that he can’t quite put his finger on that appeals to him, warms him. It doesn’t seem to matter where they stay when they arrive for the convention either, the view from the higher balconies he always requests is never disappointing. 

He closes his eyes, finally willing himself to leave work locked far away from the quiet, the beauty. The warm breeze brushes against his weary body, kissing his skin, setting off the nerves like Maison does with the tips of her fingers when he pulls her into his arms and she stills and just admires him as he memorizes his daughter before he leaves and something else changes. It seems like every time he leaves, they’ve grown that much more than they did the last time he left. It breaks his heart in some ways, but fills it in others knowing Vicki’s love makes them so wise and astounding.

He strokes the long neck of the bottle of Frizzante loosely, fingers drawing out the condensations on the sides as he moves up and down mindlessly. It’s a compulsive fidget, a bad habit when he feels unsettled. He gets this ‘crawling’ beneath his skin, like an itch and something has to move or he can't sit still. Misha takes another long drag of the cooled carbonated water as the wine he consumed previously prickles under his skin. He sighs sadly. It’s a shame that such a view is wasted without someone to share it with as the city hums in the background with beauty, love, lust and history. His thoughts are immediately of deep green eyes as he silently groans against the blanket of twinkling starlight. Right now he is all consumed by his wolfish lust for Jensen, by his need for the other man’s flesh against every inch of him. He yearns for affection outside bedroom walls, grapples with twitchy hands to worship the male, and the desire to kiss his luxurious lips whenever he so pleases. Misha desires nothing more than to tell Jensen he loves him, show him beyond the walls of their arrangement.

Misha leans against the railing, raking his fingers through his untamed raven locks, pressing the small of his back into it as he eyes the night sky above him breathlessly. His anguish grows steadily, causing war with the part of his heart that was already Jensen’s before any of this started. His unwavering devotion to the man causes so much confusion for the rest of his feelings. You’d think that after all the years he spent tangled within the sheets between his wife, her lovers, his lovers, their lovers, that he would have learned to navigate the fine line between his romantic passionate love and his animalistic sexual appetites, regardless of his taste for all things on both sides of the sexual coin. If he can dominate and fulfil the desires of one Victoria Vantoch after all their years together, all their never ending dips and dives into the rabbit-hole… how can he still not keep this the way Jensen seems to desire it?

He eyes the bedside clock one more time through the sheers before he gives up. Obviously Jensen isn't coming tonight. 

He cracks the balcony window, the breeze airing out the room as he disrobes. The large bed feels empty as he buries himself beneath the duvet and tangles himself in soft sheets. As he closes his eyes he thinks of home and dreams of being pinned between both his lovers and sleeping away the afternoon.

*********

The next day seems to get away from all of them, and Misha doesn’t see Jensen as much as he had hoped to. It's almost a blurry whirlwind between the panels and the photo ops, the buzzing of nerves in between the questions from the fans and his responses in kind. That doesn't even begin include the meet and greets and then the autographs. Misha sighs. There isn’t enough tea in the world to take away that kind of exhausted. At least he finally gets to see Jensen, he just wishes he could kiss him, pull him into the shower and luxuriate in the feel of Jensen’s arms around him and the hot water. He gets smushed between Rob and Richard in the car, though, as they leave and Jensen claims his phone is dead in front of the restaurant, so he never sees the text suggesting he duck out early from dinner. Misha’s yearning will be the death of him. 

By the time they all sit down to have dinner in what looks like a very private room in the restaurant, possibly expensive by the looks of things, everyone's exhausted. For the first time since before they walked into the bar the previous night after dinner, Jensen's attention turns to Misha. They’re sitting off to the side near the big open windows, Jared on the other side of Jen, the street seemingly quiet in front of the restaurant and the skyline bathed in beauty, the colors and hues like something out of a painting. The older man’s eyes are focused out the window intently, a dull shade of blue, seeming far away from where they are. There is laughter as Ty, Mark, Ruth, Cliff and Jared are all sharing something he didn’t even hear as everything faded at the sight of him. It always happen when things around them slow and he catches Misha from the corner of his eye. Jensen’s heart skips a beat, he aches to reach and touch him. The man makes him feel 20 again despite his love and wonderful marriage to Danneel. He adores her, loves her with his everything as well as JJ, but somehow Misha was tangled up in all that too and Lord help him if it wasn’t just a little bit terrifying. Jensen nervously sips at his water, adding to the conversation before his brain registers Misha isn’t talking, isn’t causing jokes, riling anyone up or inserting his highly educated viewpoint that loses half the table anyways before he blushes slightly and they throw their napkins at his adorable geekiness. 

It's odd with a group this size to see him so quiet. Still, the way he composes himself, the way the light reflects off him, the flickering of the candle causing a glow against his skin, Jensen can’t help but lick his lips. He’s beautiful. Jensen's mouth is dry as he reaches for his water glass again, only to find it already empty. It seemed whenever he was near Misha, within his quiet and his stillness, it felt like his world tilted and all of his feelings came back again like he was falling for the first time, not the hundreds of thousands of times he had previously.

“Mish?” Jensen calls out softly, “Are you okay?” Misha sighs softly before he nods his head. It takes a few moments before he turns his attention back to the group, the younger male noticing there’s something odd about the way his eyes look when he does. From under the table he can suddenly feel Misha’s warm hand, his long fingers against and around his knee. Jensen stiffens, his breath hitched before he covers it in his own and nervously looks around the table. 

“I’m fine, just tired. Feels like this year in general is more exhausting than the last.” He squeezes Jensen’s leg to reassure him, but frowns when he sees the panic at his PDA outside of obvious bromance meaning and pulls away. Jensen visibly relaxes and Misha clenches his teeth when his stomach flip-flops.

“It’s called aging old man” Jared teases, his smile lighting up his wine glossed eyes, “Least you can say you still got your looks though. I’m still trying to imagine what it will look like when the gray settles in.”

“Most of it I’ll probably still be able to blame on you, asshole” Misha quips back, “You just wait Jared, your time is coming and when it does I promise I will be there to make fun of you even if I have to do it from the beyond.”

“Beyond my ass, I’ll have you “Winchestered” so quick you won’t even get to say ‘I told you so’.” The table breaks out into laughter, and for the moment it eases the elephant in the room once again looming over Jensen and Misha, over their arrangement. Misha downs another glass of wine before dinner. He really needs to vent some frustration and soon, sexually or verbally. By the time they eat pasta, pig out on Tiramisu and expensive spiked coffee, he isn’t sure which option is more pressing. Either way he needs to see Jensen. 

They retire shortly after paying the bill, the walk back refreshing before they pile into the elevator in their hotel. Misha bids his friends goodnight when they all pile into the floor below his, the elevator door closing on the sudden rise of tension. It’s just them as Jensen hits the button to close the doors. Usually they'd hold hands or kiss. Misha doesn't even move. Jensen tenses.

“When you’re done talking to Danneel and JJ, please come find me Jensen. I’ll be waiting” Jensen looks worried as Misha walks past him and out the elevator door. Slipping the key card into the slot, he licks his lips, “Send them my love?” He never turns to look at him. 

“I always do, soon Misha, I’ll be back, promise” Misha nods. The door closes with a click behind him, and for a brief moment Misha wonders if he’s doing the right thing. His stomach hurts, and he isn’t sure if it’s from overeating to distract himself, or his nerves. After a brief focused breath, he dials the only person he knows can talk to in a moment like this.

“Hello Darling, this makes three calls today. Though judging by the time I’m guessing it’s not one of those sorts of calls” Misha finds himself smiling at the hint of his wife's words. The sleepy tone to her voice, making it sound low and soft, husky. He shudders.

“No my apologies but I have to talk” He clears his throat, “I need to talk about Jensen-I” And just like that, Misha isn’t sure what to say anymore. He closes his eyes as he holds the phone to his ear and thinks of anything else to take the roaring noise of his anxiety away. The blood is loud inside his ears as his heart picks up pace. Vicki rolls her eyes into the stillness of her room, but smiles with a heart bursting for affection towards her husband. He’s adorable and she’s been waiting for this call since season 5 ended. She's had a speech ready for years, waiting for the moment her husband realized what she saw the moment he returned to work and Castiel was a regular.

“Tell him you love him, after that I’m sure your big beautiful brain will have caught up to your mouth Misha” She giggles, “Just like with me honey, just be honest and the rest will work out how it should. Either way, you know where I am the second you need me. I love you” Misha relaxes and sighs heavily into the phone,

“You’re amazing and I do love you Victoria, love you so much it hurts all the time really. One of these days I swear I’ll be around for more than just a few weeks at a time and no more between Washington and L.A, no more bouncing, I promise.” She smiles widely as she eyes the darkness of their bedroom, their sanctuary as the L.A breeze filters through the open window. She strokes his side of the bed where he would normally be lying if he were here, curled around her possessively, protectively and whispering into her skin. Oh the memories inside these walls, if only they could talk. The house that love built, he built. Their castle, and her his Queen. Just like in chess, his protector, his strongest ally. He is her adored and beloved King. She’d do anything for him, anything. 

“The same for you my love, and I have spent many moments thinking of that day. I promise you may not walk properly for months, and you won’t be able to find the clippers or the razor when it happens” She chuckles softly, “Now don’t fret Misha, it’s quite obvious what’s grown between you both, it’s always been there if I can be honest, you just needed to give it some gardening and care. Call me in the morning, I want every dirty detail” Misha shakes his head but chuckles. It warms her soul.

“You always sound so sure…” She frowns at his tone. She hates that even now, after all these years that lost somewhere behind Misha Collins, is still scared, uncertain 13 year old Dmitri Krushnic. Afraid of losing everything, afraid of never being good enough.

“Because I am, and Misha it will be okay. Just let go. Set Cas and Dean free, let your love be real instead of always waiting for the script to tell you when it’s time and wondering if it will ever happen.”

*************

Jensen thumbs the key card in his hand again as he paces another line up part of the hall and down again. He memorizes the carpet details; the baseboard along the wall, the paint color and the very faintest scuff or mark, fingerprint or scratch. He needs to distract the anxiety chewing at his insides like a starved rabid wolf gnawing on a bone. It’s nauseating and he’s sure the liquor isn’t helping. He’s been out here for nearly 15 minutes since he hung up with Danneel, and he’s ready to chew what little of his finger nails are left clear off.

He knows things have been odd as of late with Misha; he isn’t sure why but he suspects it probably has something to do with him if Misha’s space has anything to do with it. He clutches the key card in his hand with crushing force as he tries to will down the fear of what's behind that door waiting him. His brain has done every scenario between good, better and best to bad, worse and worst of all. Best case there is a night of passion in that room, a night of release and the ability to just be Misha's for that little bit more. Worse case for Jensen was this was the end, and he was anything but ready for something like that. Just the thought of it ending almost makes him retch right there. Wouldn't that just be wonderful. A public falling apart and in front of Misha's hotel room covered in puke and smelling of liquor. He sighs and resists the urge to bash his head into the door. He takes a deep breath, waits another minute that he counts inside his head and knocks before slipping the key inside the lock. 

When it opens, he pushes it cautiously, peering in nervously. Misha is standing by the window with his back turned, his presence confident and unique like always, heavy in the air. However, the silence in the room feels wrong; there is only the one table lamp on, no TV or radio playing the news or something mind numbing like he knows Misha enjoys. He closes the door gently before swallowing several times to keep the nausea at bay. Oh God, this is far from good. His laptop isn't even out. Jensen spots the phone charging by the bed. Really not good. Means he's been thinking.

“Danneel sends her love. JJ she-she misses you” He cringes when he stumbles through it. He can feel the burn in his eyes, the familiar tingling that comes with Dean Winchester and the harder scenes. His throat is tight and his stomach twists like someone's wringing out a face cloth. His palms begin to sweat.

“I miss her too” is all he gets before the silence engulfs them whole again. Jensen holds his stomach with his hand sprawled open and flat against it like a child. He hates being anxious. He's come a long way since uncontrollable vomiting and crippling anxiety despite the start to his career. If he's honest with himself, a lot of it because of the show. He owes it everything he loves right now but Danneel. Without it she'd be all he had, and he’d probably never have spread his wings this wide. 

“You-you wanted to talk Misha?” Misha closes his eyes in guilt at the way his name sounds falling from Jensen's lips like this. He doesn't know if he can face him and still keep his nerve. His eyes raise to meet Jensen's reflection in the glass pane ahead of him. It’s a poorly executed move as his breath deflates from his lungs. Even in the window they’re beautiful, but that's definitely fear shining in them. Misha caused fear and doubt in his lover and now he feels like an asshole. How are we ever supposed to get past this if he always looks like a kicked puppy? The older male cracks his knuckles nervously. Victoria would remind you some things are hard but worth doing even if in the end they break your heart. She’d remind you that if you love someone you should always be honest first, because if you can't be what's the point of building on a foundation that won't support the rest of the structure?

“I-” Misha closes his eyes, “Jen...I want to know how you feel about what it is we've been doing. I-you're holding back with me every time I try to move past four walls and a bed to fuck on and quite frankly it's…” Misha presses his lips together in a hard line, “It's confusing and lonesome. I feel like you’re 3 different people. You're one of my best friends, but as my lover you're someone new, someone very dear to me but beyond the walls your fear, you're Dean Winchester, no homo surfaces…” Misha balls his hands into fists the hint of frustration bleeding through, “I want to know why when it comes to anything intimate other than having one another's cocks buried in each other you run scared or turn insulted by my affections. You accepted them easier before this started.” Misha can hear as his hurt raises his voice as the emotion follows quickly behind it, “We’re supposed to be in a polyamorous relationship, this is not what we have and I have tried to be patient, I have tried to wait it out but… Even I have my limits...”

Jensen wants nothing more than to turn around and leave. He wants to run, to search out Jared, to hide anywhere far from what’s going on now. He can't do this, not like this, not without Danneel. Misha's words hurt. Have I really been so harsh when I'm afraid to show Misha how I feel? His memories do the work for him, the hurt evident and growing steadily worse in those deep soulful blue eyes that haunt him, the beauty of them always looming over his thoughts and ready to break him apart in ways he didn't know they could. No wonder he's been distant. Jensen rubs a hand over his face. Sometimes even he hated that he and Dean were together this long. One of these days his character bleed was really going to cost him, and he wasn't sure what he'd do when the time came. 

“I..I” Misha's shoulders sag as he starts. Jensen wishes he’d at least look at him, but the blue eyes don’t even meet his in the window. He almost thinks it be easier than this if they did. This makes the older man seem so impersonal, so far away and cold. Cold was never something he would ever associate with Misha Collins. The man was far too kind and beautiful to be such a thing, too angelic, full of too much heart. Just like Castiel. Jensen sits down on the edge of the bed and stares at his hands, his legs wobbly and his stomach definitely threatening to ruin his dinner and dessert experience. “I'm sorry; if that even means anything at this point” He claws at his jeans as he stares at the floor, “I just- you and this and Dean and Cas…” Do you even know what it is you're trying to say, Ackles? He slumps over and buries his face in his hands. Fuck this. Jensen moans as his stomach flops. Deep breathes. In and out. Just do what Danneel told you. Fight for this, tell him. 

Misha leans his forehead into the window, it feels cool and calming as he resists the urge to hit the large pane with a fist as he grows angry with himself for causing the reaction he sees in Jensen. Vicki's words keep playing inside his head but he needs to know where Jensen stands before he tells him. Before he possibly breaks his own heart from something he knows he will never fully recover from. Ever.

“I'm afraid Mish.” There, he said it and his shoes are still clean “We’re afraid. Dean and I, I mean.” Jensen lets the nervous tears fill his eyes now as he looks at the cream colored carpet and claws at it with his toes from within his socks, “I thought Danneel was everything; that she was my “be all and end all,” and nothing was ever going to be different in that area of my life again. I thought I was gonna grow old with her and a couple of kids and hopefully die so far into my old age I won't even remember Dean anymore after all these adventures with my friends, with Jared and you and all our kids.” Jensen finds himself smiling just a little bit before he swallows roughly, “What I hadn't counted on was falling in love all over again with one of my best friends, and still be playing the character also too afraid to tell his best friend.” Jensen's lip trembles and now he knows there's no getting out of this. He sucks in a shuddering breath, his gag reflex goes off and he stifles the groan as he regains control. His hands push so hard into the flesh on his legs surely there will be bruises, “I love you and I'm afraid that you'll wake up one day and move on from me like you have the others because that's what you and Vicki always do at some point. I'll just be left as another notch in the bed post that didn't deliver what you needed and-and-” Jensen can feel the tears falling down his face, the shake in his hands and hear the broken fear in his own voice, “I've never loved anyone as much as I do you and Danneel and I’m scared I’ll never be good enough for you, Dmitri” Great. Now you’re blubbering, crying and terrified. Definitely going to throw up. Jensen puts his head between his knees and breathes through the tightness stealing his breath. He loses track of things around him then; time, his grip on his emotions, Misha still being in the room. He's so far gone he doesn't hear Misha move or even say his name several times until a familiar weight presses against his shoulder.

“I'm sorry, Jen” And there it is. You dumbass. You should have kept your mouth shut and your heart locked away. You should have known someone as carefree, out there and unafraid of what others think couldn't fall for someone who is too afraid to even mention he likes the idea of Dean and Cas falling love and being happy because it's what you want for yourself. 

Misha's rubbing circles into his shoulder, his other arm wrapped around Jensen as the man tries to calm himself. He momentarily wonders if Jensen is going to be ill, and better safe than sorry places the waste bin before the crying male. When he places it down in front of him, Jensen wishes he could laugh through his heart ache. 

“I’m such an asshole” Misha whispers and to Jen’s surprise his lips press against the back of his neck before Misha lays against his back, still rubbing small circles into his tense muscles, “I just thought you were only here because...It was fun till you moved on” Jensen's heart twists painfully, “I figured I'd be some first hurdle in some midlife crisis I keep expecting you tell me about. Tell me you were just getting it out of your system and what not or something” Misha's throat tightens and Jensen suddenly feels the man's arms hold him closer as he's embraced from behind, “I love you too Jensen-I have for a long time. You'll never be a notch in my bedpost and-and I hope I'll never need another partner to try and get over you with because-I'd never recover from that Jen” Jensen shudders beneath him, “I need you just like Castiel needs Dean, maybe even more” Jensen sobs. It’s an ugly noise he's been trying to swallow but Misha's voice soothes away the fear and suddenly he's stuck between upset, relieved, afraid from before and overjoyed. With a few more deep gasps of air Jensen turns quickly. 

It catches Misha off guard as he crushes them into the mattress behind them when he throws himself into Misha's arms. It doesn't take a genius to realize Misha's crying too. If their wives could see them now, they'd probably roll their eyes. 

“Love you so much. So damn much my sweet okhotnik.” Misha leaves kisses between his words along Jensen's jaw and neck, kissing everywhere he can as each one chases away the negative and replaces it with a fever, a heat and a longing like nothing before. Jensen finds the exposed skin of Misha's neck, copying the display of affection kiss for kiss and murmuring the same words in reply but the nickname he’s been called since this started. Their lips meet, bruising one another as they ache at the force of it. Jensen tastes like coffee and cream, and Misha like mint where he had brushed his teeth to distract his racing mind. Soon they're a mix of tongues, tasting and possessing every inch of another's mouths, savoring it as they make it as deep as possible, surging with the feelings they've never been able to truly show till now.

Jensen straddles Misha, bringing himself to sit up on his knees as their hands entwine and he presses the back of them desperately into the mattress. Misha is flushed below him, eyes blazing blue like they stole the color of every ocean and entwined with the brightest summer sky. They’re so full of love, and the tears that finish falling down his cheeks is one of the most gorgeous, genuine raw things he's ever seen. Jensen leans in to gingerly kiss the tears away, his lover’s long dark lashes fluttering against his cheek as he does so, the taste of them unlike anything he's ever experienced. 

“I shouldn't have waited so long to do this right.” He whispers against Misha's bronzed skin, “I should've done this as soon as I knew I had fallen for you in the best way.” Misha groans at the heat from Jensen's words against his skin as he leaves a trail of butterfly kisses. Misha leans up to nuzzle his face against Jensen's, his short beard both soft and rough against Jensen’s red tinged scuff. 

“I'm sorry I wasn't more honest or forthcoming. I just didn't want to push you away.” Misha takes in the mossy green depths that have always felt they look at his soul and not through him like some people. He adores this man, would lay his life down for him and he doesn't doubt that Jensen would do the same for him. Leaning up he once again captures the soft lips with his own before rubbing their noses together, “I want to make love with you Jensen, slow, gentle and consuming. Please...take me. Show me.” 

Jensen obeys his lover fully as everything doubtful and unpleasant fades away at those words. He growls into the possessive kiss he plants against those lips, nipping the bottom one only for a moment before sucking deep hickeys into Misha's skin, sinking his teeth into it like a claim. This is his. Vicki has their marriage, their children, and their home. She has her chains, her ropes and whips, her dominance and the pain that turns her husband into a mess that begs for more. The hickeys and the bite marks though are his, the scratches and the days away from home; the nights between their conventions and hiatus, they will always be his. The marks he hides during filming that make both of them shiver upon a glance, the ones that Misha teases with fingers in the shower when he strokes himself into bliss. The way he can make Misha nervous in a crowd of people, look adorable when he blushes and cause the full body explosion of laughter different than the others. That belongs to him. The look Cas wears on set inside those eyes when Misha gives him life in front of the camera and behind the scenes when they might practice. That's nobody else's but his. 

Misha moans deeply; he's panting and he really wishes he’d opened the window again. It's so hot in the room, his adrenaline and his emotions still high from their talk, his arousal growing steadily higher as Jensen marks him, making him his own. He adores this, gets off on it. He wants everyone who sees those marks on his skin to know that Jensen took him, with only his name on his lips. 

Jensen is tender and rough at the same time. It blanks out Misha's brain, steadily taking him past coherent thought as he pins his hands above his head with one of his own, the other undressing him skilfully, his mouth breaking all self-control and replacing it with hungry need. 

“Please…” Jensen chuckles softly into the smooth toned flesh of Misha's stomach. He runs his palm up it, trailing kisses and nipping at his belly button causing the most pleasant sounding gasps to escape the man below him. He watches with fascination as the muscles move and flex each time it happens before he slides the shirt from his body, helping him all the while before throwing it aside to taste and twist a hardened nipple between his teeth. Oh, the groan and growl that escapes Misha nearly makes Jensen lose his self-control and come. He's so hard it hurts.

“You should help speed this up…” he whispers into Misha's skin, nipping at Misha's bobbing adam's apple. “I wanna fill you so good you feel like we're one and can't remember where you end and I begin.” The voice drops like he's smoked too many cigarettes, had too many shots of whiskey and it breaks all of Misha’s control. He growls as he tears the buttons from Jensen's shirt. He doesn't even care what it will cost to replace. Jensen gasps before they literally pounce and toss one another around in a fury to remove the fabrics between them.

Being naked with Misha is glorious. They mould together, entangle. They’re sweating from want and vibrating with need. He pulls Misha into him, wraps around him and traps him there. The feeling of him breathing against his skin, pressing his weight onto the man below him, the incoherent words in a language Jensen doesn't understand slipping past his lover’ lips. Misha's glorious like this, perfect. He's more exposed now than anyone else ever gets to see and it's all for him, because of him. 

“You feel so good, baby.” he hisses, fingers stroking at the opening on Misha's body, making him arch against him and whine. Jensen’s eyes pull away from Misha as he claws the sheets, spotting the bag he knew held what he needed. Reaching down he manages to snag it between his fingers before pulling it closer. He kisses Misha again before the older man jumps when his entrance is teased.

Jensen chuckles into Misha's chest, as he slicks the hole before slipping in a finger. He gasps as Jensen moans at the heat, at how he never seems to be amazed at how tight the man is, how fit and toned he is when Jensen gets to admire him from above. Jensen is always mesmerized by the strength that could easily be misjudged at the sight of him. How all of this body is for him to worship, love, protect and cherish. Jensen twists his finger inside Misha’s clenched walls and grins devilishly when Misha writhes and moans lowly from deep within his panting chest.

“Mmmm, we should really take pictures of this one day. You’re so hot like this, clinging to the sheets and running your hands through your hair because you don't know where to touch through your pleasure.” Jensen's voice is low like he's smoked too many cigarettes and gargled gravel. A second finger as he bites down into Misha's throat as he looms over him, and Misha cries out in a desperate sound as he thrusts into it. “Love it when you’re loud baby... how about one more hmm?” 

“Ungh.” Right there. Jensen kisses into Misha's open mouth as he begins to fuck him open on three fingers, each gasp, whine and blissful string of words lost between their tasting and heated panting. He loves turning Misha into a mess. Misha thrashes, growls and cries between his need for air. When Jensen watches the pre-come ooze off the tip of Misha’s reddening cock, he stops.

There's a split second Jensen disappears, the loss making Misha mule, thrust upwards and he shivers. Jensen forces Misha's legs to loosen from around his hips as he lubes himself with the bottle beside them, discarding it to the bag when the lid closes with a click that seems to echo around them. He hisses, stroking downwards and growling at the prickling nerves from the contact. His balls tighten. 

“Jen, Jen-please-please.” The Texan swallows, spine tingling with electrical shocks of arousal, breath catching in his throat as he holds it, biting his lip, pressing the head of his cock against the puckered hole, arms pressing down his hands as they bruise the skin on Misha's incredible hip bones. 

“I love you sweetheart.” Jensen whispers against Misha’s cheek, nuzzling them together as he lines up his position. Misha whines, his breath flaring his nostrils. 

“I love-” He gasps when Jensen’s dick twitches against him, arching him off the bed in crazed sound of want “Love you too my okhotnik.” This. This is what Jensen loves most. He loves taking Misha apart, turning him into something no one would ever expect. He loves going from this, to the process of fitting the pieces back together when they were done, and then doing it all over again. Endlessly. Misha was a puzzle he would never tire of completing. 

Jensen captures Misha in a kiss that steals the breath from Misha’s lungs. As Misha relaxes before his intake of air Jensen buries his swollen cock, weeping with pre-come deep into the tight heat. They both cry out as Jensen pulls Misha up and against him, holding onto him like a lifeline, the runner’s legs solid and snared around him, trapping him in desperation. Madness for the only thing he knows Jensen can give him. Jensen tastes the sweat on his lover's skin as they kiss the crook of another’s necks, loving the taste he craved in its uniqueness. Misha pants, nearly sobs, breathing though the burn, adjusting to the feeling and how solid he is. Jensen pulls back as slow as he can, Misha hiccupping at the feeling. Jensen clutches him tightly, hissing in torment. Misha trembles at the nerves teased by the head of him just barely still inserted before Jensen closes his eyes. Their arousal burns like fire in their veins, both of them flushed. The room is so hot, their skin goose-bumped despite it, dripping in sweat as they try and sync one another’s breathing. 

A eupena in, Misha grips him tighter and Jensen waits. A harsh wheeze out, and he buries in as deep as he possibly can, punches the head of his cock into his lover as he tears the cry of pleasure from the back of Misha’s throat, pressing against him like their two pieces should be one whole. 

Excessively, voices rising, pace slow, sensual and building. Each connection builds the feeling in their chests, every intake of air prickles Misha’s eyes with new tears, each exhale causing them to spill over down his cheeks and across the heated skin covered in freckles as he sobs and Jensen groans in reply. Higher, and higher, their emotions and arousal grow. Time falls away and so do they. Jensen is dizzy on pleasure, lost in the disjointed words of his lover, thrown into the emotion and the feelings threatening to drown them with each new wave of euphoria.

Misha murmurs the most magnificent things into him. Some of them in a language he doesn’t understand, some of them in English that are low like he’s caught somewhere between himself and Castiel. Something new. The emotion in his voice, the sound of each word falling from him are heavenly, like he worships him with every passing second more than the last. God have mercy on him as he soaks them up, they all sound like a prayer even when their dirty and followed by the most perfect ‘Fuck’ when Jensen steals all of Misha’s control on the breath out. 

“Jen…” Misha wails, his whole body glistening in perspiration as it feels like he’s being pulled under, like he’s suffocating in everything their creating together, as one. “Ohhh-harder please, fuck me, fuck me harder” Jensen groans. He asks so pretty.

Jensen slams Misha into the pillows beneath them, still trapped in his arms, dragged closer now by the swell of his back. Misha’s fingers now tugging at Jensen's hair, the other ones surely leaving angry claw marks in his sweat soaked skin as he begs him over and over and it feels glorious. Each snap of the younger man’s hips is harder, faster than the last and he can feel his own tears, hear the hitch to his breath as he sobs Misha’s name with each thrust. His body is tightening, tensing and he can feel his release growing.

“Look at me baby...” Jensen gasps out, never losing rhythm as the sweat trickles down the back of his neck. Misha snaps his eyes open, the look of them intense and lust blown. Laying back as if on cue, Misha howls breathless; his head thrashing into the pillow and his mouth open wide as Jensen pulls his legs up over his shoulders. Misha clamps his mouth shut and screams, his eyes snapping closed when the feeling and angle of Jensen is deeper, harder. “Let me hear you, come on Mish, scream for me baby, let me know how much you love this, love me. Your voice is so pure. Come for me, come right-right-” 

It hits Jensen like punch to the gut, his lungs stuck as he can’t breathe in and his vision blurred by the hot tears that fall as the emotion erupts like fireworks inside his chest. He tosses his head back, lips open with a cry that doesn’t pass his lips, Misha’s name still on his tongue despite it not making a sound. His seed spurts thick and endless inside of his lover, both of them shaking as Misha comes untouched, his cock heavy against his stomach, chest and neck splattered in his release. Jensen’s name sounds like Angels singing it as it reverberates off the walls around them. It seems endless as they ride out their absolution. Jensen’s heart practically explodes from it, he can’t believe how much he loves this man. They collapse together, brains void of thought, bodies tingling and weakened. 

There is no denying what happened should anyone have heard them, and it’s a risk they know but right now as their vision clears, and their hearts pound the blood in their ears, the image of Misha is the most gorgeous thing Jensen has ever seen of man below him. He doesn’t care about anyone but him. Misha with his hair that is untamed, his eyes shut, tears still rolling down his cheeks that are flushed pink and rosy; his lips swollen, puffy and a shade of delicious abused red. His muscular chest is heaving; his whole body still shaking, boneless and limp beneath Jensen’s. 

The Texan rolls away, landing beside Misha with a grunt before entangling them together. Every inch of him curls around the smaller male as he sniffles softly, lips still parted and eyes closed. Jensen kisses his forehead, Misha’s long dark eyelashes fluttering against his cheek as he does so. Misha sighs contently as Jensen trails them to the tip of his nose, down his right cheek and licks the last of the tears away from his skin. When he lays against the pillow, they turn to stare at one another in the low light of the single lamp.

“You look like an Angel with the light around you, like you have a halo.” Jensen whispers, his fingers trailing through the long dark locks lovingly. Misha practically purrs. Jensen’s eyes remind him of the greenest forests, calm like nature, beautiful but capable of such strength and so many unexpected things without warning. Just like tonight had been, for both of them Misha is sure. Misha reaches awkwardly behind him and kills the lamp. The room goes a blue-like hue, the city below them lowly lighting their little piece of the world, at least for now.

“I’m not an Angel.” Misha replies softly rolling his eyes, voice hushed and calm, “I just want to try and be better than I was yesterday, give more with today, and love even more tomorrow.” His fingers gently stroke Jensen’s cheek as he closes his eyes and adores the feel of them.

“You are truly the closest thing to an angel that I have ever witnessed though” Jensen purrs, nuzzling to Misha’s hand, “My beautiful, sweet, loving Castiel.” Misha chuckles softly as he curls into him.

“My okhotnik, always my sweet Dean.” Jensen pulls him as close as they can be, both of them warm, flushed and so joyous, they’re practically flying. Misha reaches for his phone and raises it above them. Jensen lays his lips into Misha’s hair line as he lets Misha snap pictures. The second one comes out best and Jensen warms at the look on their faces. They send it to their wives. 

“Would you like to shower, it’s not very late yet.” Jensen trails his hands down to Misha’s chest where he has been covered in his own seed. Misha lays lazy kisses against the male’s jaw.

“On one condition.” He says softly, his fingers tracing Jensen’s shoulder.

“Hmm?” Jensen closes his eyes and buries his face in the dark chocolate locks.

“Tell me you love me.” Jensen smiles. 

“I love you.” Misha holds him tightly, and they chuckle. 

“What about me, hmm?” He traces Misha’s hip with his thumb. Misha looks thoughtfully out at the lights above the city.

“I have not the words nor the actions in which I could justify the love I have for you Jensen, but I will start with I love you and spend the rest of my life doing my feelings for you justice and making sure you know it all to be true and pure in intention.” Jensen swallows thickly as his insides erupt into butterflies.

“Way to make me look cheap in comparison to that.” He whispers, amused and Misha hums softly.

“Then show me how you feel, no holding back, ever again.” Misha rubs his nose against the underside of Jensen’s jaw, “The shower is big enough for two; might be a good place to start.” Jensen chuckles low within his chest as he pulls Misha on top of himself, holding his midsection. Misha’s arms slink around his neck and they kiss deeply. Jensen pours his soul into all of it, as they lay forehead to forehead, eyes closed and quiet, feet teasing one another’s calf muscles beneath the sheets. Jensen rubs his nose against Misha’s as he chuckles at the contact he’s receiving.  
“I will love you with every breath I have, and when I cannot speak it anymore, I will show you ‘til I no longer have movement to do so. I will love you with every second, together or apart, and even more in the one after. You’re mine Misha, and I am forever yours” He kisses him briefly, slow and sweet, soft. “And to prove it, I want the entire world to know just how much when we leave this room and face the people out there waiting. No more hiding”

**Author's Note:**

> okhotnik said by Misha is Russian for hunter according to google translate.
> 
> I hope I delivered and that you all love. Please let me know what you think and give me your feedback. <3


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